


starpoints

by eeveepkmnfan



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-15 07:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19291516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeveepkmnfan/pseuds/eeveepkmnfan
Summary: You smile, saying, "I love you already. What's your name?""This little one is called Minior, the Meteor Pokemon."Minior bounces excitedly.





	1. so true and bright

One night, where you weren’t quite so ready to let go of him so soon, Asra came through the door quietly; the candles’ light made shadows where they probably weren’t supposed to. They framed his eyes perfectly, and he was back again to being your starlight. Lighting the way and moving ahead, because stars do never last, after all. How you wish he could stay, even just a little longer.

He catches sight of you in all of your sleepy glory - rumpled clothes and messy hair and lost eyes - and he makes that face where he isn’t sure whether to smile or frown, and so he makes his best attempt at both. It always ends up as something that makes you laugh, and so you do, unable to help how warm it makes you feel.

He sits down next to you and doesn’t say a word. Just sits, for a long while. You get the feeling he would’ve sat longer, in fact, if it weren’t for whatever gets to wiggling near his chest. Then he turns to you, slightly smiling and mostly unprepared, whispering (because that’s just how the night talks), “I… wanted to give this little one to you. Silas,” and he stops on your name, just stops, like it is coffee and tea both. The bitter (that he likes) and the bitter (that you like). 

You don’t mind, because you already know what he’s feeling (the feeling where you grip your heart for fear of it leaving). You reach out and take his hand, and he settles. He’s about to turn words to you, but something (someone) takes the both of you by surprise.

Some sort of Pokemon, round and brown and rocky looking, rushes out of Asra’s clothing and right into yours, its cry foreign and fluffy and akin to the cold ice cream that ever since you’d been introduced to, have tried to have for dinner every night. 

“Ah, wait-!” Asra holds out a hand, as if to try and stop it, but this Pokemon knows what it wants and makes some sort of noise again, this time louder, and normally - you would have already run back to your room, overwhelmed and tired from just one noise. 

But for some reason, all you can think of are those funny ice cream afternoons, gently arguing and laughing and having fun with Asra. You look down at it, and it must sense that, because soon it was there in front of you, floating at eye level. It levelled a question at you, and you tilted your head to smile, saying, “I love you already. What’s your name?” 

It lets out a longer noise, bouncing excitedly, and Asra squeezes your hand, once, just enough to say he’s proud of you. You can feel the way your magic twists at that, and he is so gentle, so gentle when he brushes up against yours with his. It is something less than a hug but more than a kiss to the temple - it is a part of him, asking permission to see part of you. You say neither yes or no, simply sitting there and feeling safe (something so precious), and he soon lets his aura curl up inside him again. (And you feel warm again - his magic may be cold to the touch, but it is your favorite between the two of you.)

“This little one is called Minior, the Meteor Pokemon. They’re thought to have fallen from the ozone layer to here. I helped this one when I came across it, and asked if it wanted to come home to meet you.” 

You smile wider now, because Asra knows you adore meeting new Pokemon. The both of you love to dote on Faust, Sairah, and Sunflower. The thought of meeting encountering new Pokemon is sometimes the one thought giving you strength enough to go outside. 

Minior became excited and flew circles around the two of you, letting out little sounds that reminded you of slushies. It eventually came back to settle between you and Asra’s bodies, hands coming undone in the soft chaos. Yours went to work petting your new friend, and it turned in your direction, sounds of snowflakes its cooing. 

Asra looked at it for a few minutes, and then started to laugh. “I was going to ask, but… if I did, I’m afraid Minior might give me a stern talking to.” A bright blurry of a noise was our answer, and you giggled. 

“Here, Silas. This is yours now.” He turned those starlit eyes on you, and in them you saw love. You reached out and took hold of the pokeball, gripping it tightly. “I hope - I hope the two of you become good friends.”

He cut himself off; a poem unfinished and rewritten. But this was true as well, and so you let his secrets slip from your hands and instead wrapped your arms around Minior. 

You stared down at it, giddy and excited, and it seemed to match your excitement beat for beat. You didn’t even have time to pose the question; Minior merely touched a tip to the pokeball before being sucked in.

Once, twice, thrice - (a question, an answer, a promise) and _click_. Minor was captured! 

You probably looked goofy, grinning so wide, but that’s just how it is sometimes. Happiness can overwhelm too, but at the moment, you felt just right. You felt good. Great! 

Minor jumped from the ball and into your arms, and you fell over the sofa with a loud and spirited, “Oommf!” Praise be to the gods that Minior could levitate - in your arms, it felt like a whole building. 

Minor laughed, the soft _swush swush swush_ of stardust. You would be getting revenge later - after you slept all this tired off.

A hand reached down to you, and you were looking up at Asra, who was warm and amused and lovely in the light he’d called forth. You reached out and gripped the tether between the two of you firmly - Minior floating at your shoulder. Its presence, while still very new, was just so - so cool! You couldn’t wait to ask it all sorts of questions about space…

“We should probably head to bed now, huh?” Asra’s voice was smiling as you watched his back as it lead you up the stairs. 

“Probably,” you said, chuckling as you let him open the door to his own room and change into something more comfortable. You busied yourself with making the bed comfortable - the pillow ratio was good, the blankets checked out, and you swept some of Sairah’s hairs off the covers and onto the floor. You could clean that up tomorrow.

He made a choked, cut off exclamation point as he turned back to you, and you winked at him. “Well? See something you like?” And it must have been the way you said it, because he actually put his hand to his face and turned back around, shoulders shaking.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you, Silas…?” He questioned, exasperated, but he was smiling when he slipped in beside you, and you wasted no time in cuddling up around him, your arm winding around his chest while your nose tickled at his neck. He was still a little cool from being outside for who knows how long (you knew), and so you set to warming him up. 

Your heart was calm in its slow pattern of _thump, thump, thump_ , and so were you. Tired, you reached for Minior, and there it was, right against your head. Satisfied, that hand curled up with the other.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, fingers meeting yours, and you whispered it back. Minior also chimed in, and your heart swelled. It used to be confusing, such happiness. You’re glad it wasn’t anymore.

Your heart was big enough now to cradle his in your love, and you fell asleep to the sound of it - that steady and sure >em>thump, thump, thump.

You could hear the music of the future and it was beautiful.


	2. a thought I had that this is you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Your Heart has gone."_

The forest at night is beautiful - green and purple glowing interchangeably, the animals coming alive, even the voice of the night singing softly to anyone who cared to listen. He always did. Those quiet songs had fooled him into closing his eyes for a while. Sometimes he wished he could just open his eyes, instead of - 

Whispers and more whispers, then the groaning of the trees; the music swelled and Muriel glanced down at his right hand, only to find that his chains had grown to encompass it as well. No matter how he pulled it, they remained, and he felt his hand growing tighter yet…

“What?” he questioned, just for the sake of something to drown out the noise inside of his head. But they wouldn’t stop. Voices, innumerable voices speaking all at once inside his mind and somehow all of them were saying, _“The Heart is gone, the Heart is gone, the Heart is gone, your Heart has gone.”_

He crescendoed into a run, the music inside of him and yet he hoped to outrun it. Past leaves and dirt and branches and thorns (and teeth) alike, he had to escape. Panting as he rushed over a vine littering the forest floor, he swore when bark scraped his left hand raw, blood smearing wood in a hurry.

Breaking into an open clearing, he swore again when he caught a glance at his other hand - now captured by his own chains as well, completely red - and he stopped there, the rabbit in one of Asra’s old stories. And he remembered; swearing is a curse, too. 

Muriel grunted from the impact as he was knocked to the ground, fingers grasping but leaving blood and ash in their wake as he struggled away from those songs, those voices, that comfort; an insect pinned there by its own instincts. Looming, the trees overhead were silent in their condemnation, and the skies black and grey as they crackled (yelled). He closed his eyes, tired of all of this.

“Then why don’t you stop?” His voice said, and he turned his head, opened his eyes to find who else but himself. A perfect vision of Muriel, coming closer and closer until it stood next to him, smiling and unblinking. Dangerous. 

He smirked, just a little, and leaned his head back onto sharp and waiting soil. It invited itself to grab fistfuls of his hair, pulling and pulling. “Do you really think it would make a difference?”

His mirror image tilted its head and replied, “Yes. But you can’t.” 

Immediately, he denied it. “I could. I don’t want to.” The weight on him grew tighter, an invisible and painless force keeping him flat on his back. Somehow, it was more unnerving than the whispers muttering in his head.

Claws pierced the thin veil of his skin and his mirror was smirking too as it held his hand, eyes glowing green. He didn’t have claws.

“You’re lying.” So what? What did it care? 

Silently, fingertips drew themselves through red, red, red and then cupped his cheek, laughing as it said, “Does Countess Nadia know? Does Silas?”

Muriel grit his teeth and snapped them at that hand, glaring as it only laughed harder, trees shaking and wind howling in unison. It didn’t matter, it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. 

Asra’s patience - he still remembered the way the Countess had been that night, how she had looked - and he wondered why exactly his friend was still waiting. _“One day we’ll have someplace better. Don’t you think so, Muriel?”_ Being the fool he was, he had said yes. He had said yes. Back then, looking out over the water, seeing their reflections down below, all wide eyes and young hearts - 

He had truly believed they could be anything. 

“You’re too afraid to say it. I wonder, will Asra still be so patient when you have no words to offer? Will the Countess think you a fool, as pitiable?” It smiled gently at him as it leaned in, his own face inches from his, and something slid up to his hair. Another something crept behind his ear and slowly dragged itself back and forth. Muriel’s heart beat faster and faster, a steady and calm sort of horror - one that is resigned to itself. 

Still as his mirror’s eyes, he dared not move. Its mouth started moving; he heard the words but not their meaning, not until hot breaths washed across his face and he came back to the world. Ears tingling from all the noise, his brows scrunched and he grimaced.

It repeated itself, “And what about Silas? What do they think of you?” He closed his eyes but then they were open. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t close them. Digging his clammy hands into what used to be grass but now was some rolling mass of waves pushing and pulling at him in every direction, never stopping - 

“They make no sense! Why should I care!?” He shouted, trying now to escape once more. In vain; it was a blood red sea he was drowning in. Water up to his chest, he could no nothing but watch as the mirror stepped back one pace.

Watching in turn, it said simply, “You do.” And he was forced to admit that it was true. Water up to his neck, he whispered words that made his mirror grin as it walked away, leaving him. 

“And you are not,” Inanna said as she transformed back into her original form, snickering at him as she disappeared. 

Drowning amidst the waves, he thought he saw a hand reaching out to his, searching for him and saying something like, come back, come back. He frowned at it as he swam away, hand weaving a bright red ribbon to follow. 

Funny, how she said that. Like she already knew. He wanted to smile, but felt the chains dragging him down, and then - 

Muriel woke to a bright pink mist gently floating around him, and he sneezed as he sat up, causing something to cry from above his head. He looked up only to find a wild Munna, quietly posing a question to him as it levitated. He searched his memory and could only find the ends of questions and for some reason, the impression of the ocean. He would rather not know.

For a few minutes, they simply stared at one another. Eventually, he broke the silence and averted his eyes, quietly saying, “Thank you. It’s gone now.” It warbled, sounding pleased. 

He didn’t know how it got in, but he didn’t really care at the moment. Sighing, he got up and headed to the main room, starting a fire in the early morning hours and hopefully warming up the place. From her place near the furs, Inanna opened her eyes and fixed him with a look. He looked back, and she gave a sigh of her own and stretched, yawning as she settled in front of him.

Once the fire was stable and they’d all gotten something to drink, Muriel started on one of their little rituals - brushing Inanna’s fur. Munna had long curled up on top of his head and he’d given up trying to get it to leave. It watched with curious eyes as the Zoroark in front of him began to relax.

He did, too. This was a familiar thing, and dear. It’d started years ago, back when they’d been in the thick of all the blood and fighting - surviving. The two of them did a different sort of surviving these days, but it was still so much better. It was theirs, at least. 

Inanna looked at him again, sideways. A question he could only try to answer. He buried his hands in her fur and pressed his head to her back, closing his eyes. They stayed there for a while, until he went back to brushing her. Down, down, down - the easiest pattern they had. 

She had her answer. A few minutes more and Inanna turned, the brush already tucked back out of sight, waiting for the next moment in its life. It was such an easy pattern to fall into. An old one. Inanna yipped, muzzle yanking at his pants, and he stood. 

Bright blue eyes peered up at him, and his muddy green peered back. “I know,” he said, and they, all three of them, meandered into the forest. He didn’t need to, but he might as well stock up on what they used - food, medicine, ingredients for dye-making and the stuff for weaving. Better to have too much than too little.

Coming to a stream in the woods, he stared at his reflection and mused quietly that they were kind. Inanna, a Lanturn, waved her feelers at him. Munna plopped down into his lap and snuggled close.

“Silas,” he explained. His old friend snickered at him, having proven her point. He grumbled but admitted to her having been right. She usually was. 

Munna asked something, a little high pitched query that floated out into the open air. All was silent, nothing but the sounds of the forest for words - until he wrapped arms around Munna and repositioned himself closer to the water. Inanna gulped down a stray fish she had lured as he put a hand to his reflection and waved it away. Ripples spread across his palm and around his skin as he left it there.

He glanced at Munna and replied, “You’ll get to see them later, if you stick around.” For once, he was sure. He was tired of fighting. 

Strangely enough, he was almost looking forward to when they would come. Let them ask their questions - this time, he would answer. 

He grasped onto the muted green scarf woven secure around his neck, and he breathed.


End file.
